


Mikey's Box

by pyrchance



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: All the way up until the point he really really isn't, Frank Iero Is A Little Shit, M/M, Mikey is a shy kid, Past Mikey Way/Pete Wentz, Power Bottom, Power Play Undertones, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:07:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29626782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrchance/pseuds/pyrchance
Summary: Frank accidentally opens Mikey's suitcase instead of his own.Now it's just a matter of convincing Mikey to make use of the treasure he found inside.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Mikey Way
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	Mikey's Box

If Frank had given himself a moment to think, he’d have stopped before he opened the suitcase.

Frank has this thesis that the longer a tour stretches the less specific reality becomes. The world outside the bus windows blurs into what can only be described as some road somewhere. This unending road carries them from venue to venue, and hotel to hotel, and airport to airport, with very little changing but the city Gerard yells on stage.

Frank has lost a lot of things to this road. Personal space. Basic hygiene. Socks.

And now, apparently, his suitcase.

It takes Frank a good thirty seconds of digging through a pile of band shirts and skinny jeans for his pajamas before he realizes none of the clothes he’s currently touching are his, and by then he’s already found it.

The dildo is slim, black, and curved just slightly. It was hiding in the bottom of a suitcase that Frank has suddenly realized is not his at all. Except _how_ the fuck does he have the wrong suitcase? He’s been touring since he was seventeen. His suitcase is basically his house. He wouldn’t not recognize his own house.

Except that Frank is currently holding a dildo that doesn’t belong to him, from a bag that Frank is staring at and realizing looks suspiciously like Mikey’s. There’s a flared base at the end of the dildo where Frank is holding it and that’s what finally clues Frank into the fact that he’s now weilding a piece of silicone that regularly must go up Mikey’s ass.

This is, of course, when Mikey walks out of the shower.

“Um,” says Frank. “Um, Mikey. Wait.”

Mikey has a towel slung low around his skinny hips and no glasses on his face. That’s probably why he makes it three good feet out of the bathroom before stopping in his tracks.

“Frank?”

“Sorry!” squeaks Frank. “It’s not what it looks like!”

“Are you— Why the _fuck_ are you going through my stuff?”

“It was a mistake!”

Frank raises his hands his hands and leaps back as Mikey stalks towards him. Mikey is a skinny fucker, but he’s got stupid-sharp elbows, more phone numbers than God, _and_ an older brother that wouldn’t hesitate at homicide if it kept Mikey from being sad. The dildo tumbles out of Frank’s hand and back into the suitcase with a little thump. Frank swallows.

“I really, _really_ didn’t mean to,” he says, backing up even more until his knees hit the shitty AC unit. “I thought it was mine. The suitcase! Not the— Not that I don’t— Oh God. I swear I didn’t mean to, Mikey. I’m not even fucking with you. I swear to God.”

Mikey is red and tense when he reaches his suitcase and slams the lid down. He yanks the zipper shut and jerks it off the table. “Fuck you, Frank.”

“Wait. Hey, Mikey, wait.” Frank scrambles as Mikey turns away, visions of Gerard raining down on him. “You don’t have to go. I’ll go. Seriously. You stay. I’ll swap with Ray.”

The door clicks shut behind Mikey. Frank stands with the steam of the open bathroom rolling over him, staring at the shut door.

He is so completely and utterly screwed.

*

Ray _and_ Bob give him the stink eye when they show up in his room ten minutes later. They don’t even give Frank a chance to make excuses.

“I don’t know what you did, but you better fix it,” Bob says, shoving his way inside and stuffing himself into the bed Mikey had just abandoned. “I fucking hate it when they close ranks like that. It’s fucking creepy.”

Ray just shakes his head like he didn’t expect anything better. He squeezes Frank’s shoulder as he makes for the other bed. “Maybe wait until the morning, Frankie. Mikey looked pretty pissed.”

Frank feels about as good as dog-shit after that.

He ignores Ray’s good advice and stays up late texting messages to Mikey’s phone that don’t get returned. He feels extra shitty when he notices Mikey’s glasses are still in the bathroom. He picks them up and contemplates using them as leverage to get Mikey to open the door and let him apologize, but just thinking that makes him feel even more like slime.

He knows Mikey gets embarrassed easy. For all that he likes to get shit-faced and make out with half of Jersey, Mikey is a pretty private dude. It took the band ages just to get Mikey to unlock his knees on stage and over a _year_ before he started offering suggestions when writing. Frank’s not quite sure Mikey’s ever going to be able to look him in the face again.

The thing is, in between feeling like the scum of the earth and desperately trying to come up with way to apologize, Frank’s thoughts are buzzing with another pressing issue. Namely, thoughts of little black dildo.

Frank knows his band is sort of fruity. He’s shared enough aggressive kisses with Gerard on and off the stage to know he’s not the only one running around a different set of bases. They’ve always sort of left things unnamed though.

No one in the band mentions it when Gerard and Frank get up to it on stage. Or when Gerard runs off with Bert from _The Used_ like they’re roleplaying Bonnie and Clyde. Or when Mikey starts hanging around the Pete Wentz for an entire summer and winds up splayed across the dude’s Live Journal. But that’s just the thing. No one mentions it. Which means Frank was under the impression that Mikey’s thing with Pete was more-straight-than-not. Like, yeah, okay, so they probably jerked each other off once or twice or whatever. _Everyone_ did that. That doesn’t mean Frank was expecting dildo-levels of gay to come spilling out of Mikey’s suitcase.

And even _that_ Frank knows isn’t fair. Frank knows you can like girls _and_ still like things up the ass. He knows it first hand, even.

Except that Frank can’t get the image of it out of his head either. It starts with wondering when Mikey even found the time and privacy for it. It’s one thing to jerk off quickly at rest stops and in the bunks and hotel showers. Frank can’t imagine Mikey getting enough time alone on a hotel night to actually take the time to stretch himself out and—

Which means that Mikey must use it on the bus. Which means Frank has lain just feet from Mikey in the bunk directly above when Mikey was working that little dildo inside of himself. If Frank had just woken up at the right time he might have even heard the noises. He gets the sudden, stark image of Mikey biting his lip and with his fingers clasped around his toy, freezing and straining to listen each time one of them moved. Mikey’s knees would be up and spread and his thighs and fingers would be sticky with lube and his ears would be straining to catch them as he stifled his moans into little gasps mere inches beneath Frank’s bunk.

Frank doesn’t get a lot of sleep at that night. None in fact.

It leaves him a lot of terrible time to think.

*

“Hey, Mikey. Come on. Wait up a sec.”

Mikey Way’s long legs eat up concrete even faster than his mouth sucks downs coffee. Frank isn’t sure exactly how he managed to catch Mikey on a caffeine run without Gerard in tow, but he’s not about to waste the perfect opportunity for an ambush.

Mikey does not stop walking. Frank is forced to do a stupid little jog to keep up, which isn’t at all pleasant in unnamed-northern-city’s cold air. He’s wheezing slightly by the time he finally catches up and Mikey _still_ doesn’t slow down. It’s a pretty good barometer for how pissed he remains at Frank.

“Go away, Frank.”

“You can’t be mad at me forever,” Frank says. “It was an honest mistake. I told you I got the suitcases mixed up.”

Mikey doesn’t even look at him. His strides, if possible, get longer. “I don’t care.”

Frank isn’t going to be able to keep up. He finally stops trying, planting his feet on the sidewalk and grabbing Mikey’s wrist until he jerks to a stop. “Goddammit, Mikey. Would you just let me apologize?” he demands.

Mikey glares down at him. His spare glasses are bright blue and too bright for the severe expression on his face. “Let go.”

“I get that you’re embarrassed, but you’re being sort of a dick about this,” Frank snaps back. He quickly backtracks when he sees the venomous expression building on Mikey’s face. “Obviously I’m the asshole here. Like, _obviously_ I fucked up. But it was a mistake, Mikey. Are you seriously going to stop talking to me forever just because I know you like getting fucked?”

Mikey hisses. His arm rips out of Frank’s grip. His narrow eyes bounce around the sidewalk around them even though no one is giving them a second glance.

Frank rolls his eyes. “No one cares, Mikey.”

“Fuck off.”

Frank pointedly doesn’t. “So you like getting fucked. So what? Newsflash, so do I. So does your brother, I’m pretty sure. You’re not exactly an ugly ducking here, Mikey. We’re all swimming in the same shitty pond.”

“God, you suck,” Mikey sighs, covering his face in his hands. But there’s a crack there, like he’s trying not to smile at Frank’s excellent metaphor.

“Yeah, dude. That’s what I’m saying,” Frank says. He presses his luck and slings and arm around Mikey’s shoulders, going up on his tip-toes to reach. “You can suck too. No one cares, Mikey.”

Mikey’s tight shoulders loosen under Frank’s hold. He shakes his head, pressing his lips together like he’s fighting to stay mad. “Promise to stay out of my shit,” Mikey says, “and don’t like—don’t tell anyone.”

“I wouldn’t, Mikes. Come on.” Frank jostles Mikey’s shoulders until his little smile tumbles out. He hides it quickly again, but not before Frank can see it.

Mikey elbows him in the ribs, but it’s gentler than it could have been. Frank doesn’t let go.

“Fine, you asshole,” Mikey mutters. “I forgive you. Now fuck off.”

“Never,” Frank declares and rockets up to his toes to plant a sloppy wet kiss on Mikey’s cheek.

The next elbow is not as kind as the first, but Frank giggles as he stumbles off. Worth it.

*

Things are still awkward over the next few days.

Gerard poofs up like an alleycat whenever Frank draws too near to Mikey, even when Mikey goes back to talking to Frank normally. He earns a collection of little bruises in the center of his chest after Gerard spends a night aggressively pointing at Frank and sing-shouting that he’s a _bad bad man_. Mikey must catch him rubbing at them when he get off the stage because he disappears with Gerard for a few hours after that and then Gerard turns up at Frank’s bunk the next night, grumbling and sort of sour, but inviting Frank to watch a movie in the lounge.

The real sign of forgiveness comes when the Ways finally stop holing up together each hotel night. Frank can’t explain the sort of tingling relief he feels when he walks out of the elevator and finds Mikey on his heels as they step up to one of the two rooms.

Not wanting to spook him, Frank doesn’t say anything until after the door has closed behind their backs and Mikey has dropped his bag onto one of the beds. He pointedly doesn’t look at Frank as he opens his suitcase and pulls out his toiletry bag.

“Don’t touch my stuff,” he warns, before stepping around Frank into the bathroom. Frank raises his hand in a scout’s promise, punching the air once the bathroom door clicks shut.

He spins a circle and collapses on his bed. He’s still grinning stupidly when Mikey comes back out, rolling his eyes at the sight of him. Frank flips onto his belly and beams at him.

“You trust me,” he sings. “Mikey Way _trusts_ me.”

“You’re so stupid,” Mikey says, but there’s a small crook to his lips that hints at a smile. “Go take a shower. You fucking stink.”

Frank raises his brows at that highly-hypocritical statement, but gets up and goes. He’s still giddy under the warm spray of the shower, dropping the shampoo bottle and only grabbing at his dick twice before his excitement reminds him that he’d much rather be out basking in Mikey’s forgiveness than jerking off.

Mikey _oofs_ when Frank flops down on top of him, shaking his head like a dog. “You fucker,” Mikey wheezes, pushing at Frank’s head until his hair stops dripping all over is face. He keeps his hand in there tangles there even as Frank settles his head against the concave plane of his abdomen, carefully avoiding poking his eye out on Mikey’s pointy ribs.

“What’re we watching?” Frank says as Mikey picks up the remote and starts flicking. He doesn’t even bitch when Mikey finally settles on a baseball game, just makes a face into Mikey’s stomach and relishes in the scratch of Mikey’s nails through his hair. The Ways are affectionate motherfuckers, but Mikey’s not usually the tactile type. Frank soaks it up like a needy sponge.

Mikey’s thumb is stroking over Frank’s scorpion tattoo sometime during the sixth inning when Mikey quietly breaks the silence. He says, “I talked to Gerard about it.”

Frank doesn’t have to ask what _it_ is. He lifts up his head. “He didn’t know before?”

Mikey shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe. He just said he loves me.”

“Of course he does, dumbass. Gerard would literally kill for you.”

“Yeah,” says Mikey, but his eyes are far away. As Frank watches, he gives himself a little shake and blinks back to himself. “I guess I just wanted to say thanks. I don’t think I would have had that conversation if you hadn’t of freaked me out.”

“I _am_ sorry,” Frank says, because it bears repeating.

“No. It was good. I think he’d been wanting to talk about it for a while.” Mikey smiles slightly and relaxes back against the headboard a bit more. “He asked a _lot_ of questions about Pete.”

“I am so curious now,” Frank admits. “Did you guys actually hookup or…?”

Mikey’s ears turn red. “Sort of? He, uh, he’s not really gay. Or like, he says he’s not. It was mostly just handjobs and making out and stuff.” He wobbles a shoulder. “I blew him a few times, but it—I dunno, I think the thought of reciprocating wigged him out. He mostly just wanted to hold my hand a lot.”

“How romantic,” drolls Frank, grinning like a shit.

Mikey rolls his eyes. “Shut up. It was sweet.”

“I can’t believe you spent that summer getting blueballs from Pete Wentz.”

“Fuck off,” Mikey says, twisting a finger into Frank’s hair and tugging. “I just said we were getting off together.”

“Yeah, but like—“ Frank bats at Mikey’s hand and wiggles around until he’s facing Mikey properly, “—he should have totally sucked your dick, man. That’s, like, basic etiquette.”

“It was fine,” Mikey says. “I liked him.”

“I bet your dick didn’t think it was fine,” Frank returns, grinning wider at the defensive tilt to Mikey’s mouth. A thought occurs to him that has him growing more serious again. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

Mikey squints down at him. “What? Why are you asking me that?”

“Cause I don’t want you to get mad again,” Frank says honestly. The space between them seems lax and easy. Their conversation has already taken on the tone of a thirteen-year-old girl’s sleepover. He might as well take the plunge and play a round of true and dare. He waves a hand. “I’m sort of stupid curious about Pete and the…the you know.”

Frank can feel when Mikey stops breathing beneath his head, and the long pause it takes before Mikey finally exhales again. Frank abruptly decides this isn’t a question he can ask with his head pressed up against Mikey’s belly and sits up.

Mikey is avoiding his eyes, ears bright. “That’s a fucking weird question, Frank,” he says.

“We’re weird dudes.” Frank crosses his legs and leans forward, bracing himself with his hands on his ankles. “Did you use it with him? Is that why you bought it? Did he like it?”

“Frank.” The Mikey’s blush floods from his ears all down his neck. “Seriously?”

Frank shakes his head stubbornly. “What? Guys talk about sex all the time. This isn’t weird. This is, like, the most heterosexual conversation we’ve ever had.”

Mikey stares like he’s doubting Frank’s impeccable reasoning. His mouth is split slightly, and Frank doesn’t think he’s imagining it when he looks at Mikey’s eyes and sees that his pupils are wider than normal. He’s not the only one interested in this conversation.

Mikey drops his gaze to the bed and twists his fingers into the sheets. “We tried,” he says finally. “Once. It didn’t really work.”

“Was he weird about fingering?” Frank asks bluntly. That’s usually the wall he hits with closeted guys. “Did he not want to touch your ass?”

Mikey shakes his head, redder than Frank’s ever seen him. “He wanted me to try it on him. I think he thought it wouldn’t count if it wasn’t a real dick? But he—We barely even got started when he called it off. He was sort of drunk when he asked. I should have known he wasn’t ready for it.”

Frank sucks on his lip, tasting the metal ring. It’s familiar. Distracting. That wasn’t what he was picturing when the images of Mikey and Pete started oozing into his brain. It was always Mikey on his back, Pete hovering above him smiling with his too-big teeth. The abrupt reversal does some serious blunt damage to his brain.

“He never used it on you?” Frank asks.

“It was already late when we tried it on him,” Mikey explains. “I think he was trying to prove something. I don’t know. The tour ended the next week.”

“That’s shitty.” Frank shakes his head when Mikey frowns at him. “What? It is! You didn’t buy that thing not to use it.”

“It’s not like I bought it for him,” Mikey mutters down towards his fingers that still twisting around in the sheets. “I had it before.”

Frank swallows. “Right.” That answered his next question then. And only cropped out about a million more.

There’s a part of Frank that knows he should stop now. The air has grown charged between them and neither of them are naive enough not to have noticed. The fact that Mikey is still red and shifty proves he’s not comfortable, and Frank doesn’t want to be the dick that keeps on pushing past the point of friendship.

Except that, well, there _is_ that part of Frank that _does_ want that. There’s this little voice that’s been whispering away ever since Frank opened up that suitcase and confirmed Mikey’s not-straightness. There’s a little button in the back of Frank’s mind that says _Try Me!_ It seems to ping every time he’s so much as glanced at Mikey over these past few days.

If only he’d never opened that suitcase. If only he’d never released these thoughts into the world. If only—

“Hey, Mikes.”

Mikey seems to take forever to drag his eyes from the sheets. There’s nothing Frank can say that’s going to ask this question right so he doesn’t try. He leans forward and kisses Mikey’s mouth.

Mikey gasps softly when Frank pulls back. His eyes are wide open and stunned and Frank tries not to freak out too much as he sits back and lets Mikey process the kiss.

“Frankie,” Mikey whispers. “What.”

Frank can just sort of shrug and shake his head. “I can’t stop thinking about it. About you. I thought—If you wanted to…”

“You want to fuck me?” Mikey says, and the bluntness of it matches the way his eyes have suddenly narrowed.

Luckily blunt honesty is a language they share.

“I mean, yeah,” says Frank. “Or the other way. I don’t care. I’m not gonna leave you hanging.”

If anything, Mikey’s eyes narrow more. He pulls his body back against the headboard until no parts of them are touching. “Is this about Pete?”

“Honestly? Fuck no,” says Frank. “I mean, I think the guy is a dickwad for not getting you off properly, but I don’t actually give a fuck about Wentz. It just sucks being alone all the time, you know? And, like, your brother teases but he’s not really into me like that. And some of the techs are cool, but it’s weird hooking up to people when you’re technically signing their paycheck.”

Frank shrugs again, relieved when Mikey just keeps looking at him without scrambling off the bed or something. “We’re like family, Mikey. I just—I think we could have something good here. I trust you.”

“People don’t have sex with their family,” Mikey mutters.

“Bad analogy,” Frank admits, quirking up a smile. “You get what I mean though. It would be good having someone to do things with that, like, actually cares.”

Mikey is silent for a long time. After more than a minute, he sighs and shakes his head. “This could really fuck up the band.”

“It wouldn’t,” Frank says. “We wouldn’t let it. Come on. Besides this one time when was the last time you and I actually fought? You’re basically my brother.”

Mikey makes another face. “That’s so not helping.”

Frank snorts. He takes a chance and reaches for Mikey’s hand, detangling his fingers from the sheets and twining them together. “Fine. I’ll stop talking if you start kissing me. Promise.”

Mikey lips thin and just stares. His eyes flicker from their hands to Frank’s face. Frank holds his breath as something in Mikey’s gaze steels. A second longer and Mikey nods and Frank almost expects him to pull away, but he doesn’t. He sits up from the headboard and then there’s a hand in Frank’s hair and Mikey is pulling him in for a kiss.

Mikey is good at kisses. Of course, he’s good at kisses. Half the state of New Jersey could act as references to attest for that fact.

It still surprises Frank just how quickly they go from sitting up and chastely kissing to Mikey pulling Frank down and crawling his way on top of him. A thigh ends up wedged between Frank’s legs and Frank’s hands find themselves on Mikey’s skinny ass, the obvious hardness of their cocks trapped between them.

“Jesus,” Frank laughs several long minutes later when Mikey lets him up to breathe. “I’m a genius.”

Mikey rests his hands on Frank’s chest and pushes himself up, looking pleased with himself. “You’re a fucking idiot,” he corrects, and it’s funny because his blush his totally gone. “This is a terrible idea.”

“You like me,” Frank sings. “I bet you think I’m sweet too.”

“I think you’re a little shit.”

“You’re gonna want to hold my hand. I’m gonna suck your dick so hard, Mikeyway, you’re gonna want to hold my hand forever. You have no idea.”

Mikey snorts and nearly knees him in the balls rolling off of him. Frank’s disappointed for all of three seconds before Mikey pulls his shirt over his head and unbuttons his jeans. He lays back against the pillows and waves in the general direction of his dick. “Yeah, okay. Deal.”

Frank’s mouth abruptly waters. He scrambles to his knees and all but yanks his shirt off, before jumping between Mikey’s legs.

Mikey wears just about the skinniest skinny jeans known to man, but Frank’s been in the scene long enough to know how to peel them off. He pecks a kiss at Mikey’s ankle when he finally gets them all the way down, flinging them away with Mikey’s grimy socks too. Mikey cracks his big toe right in Frank’s face, then snickers at the way Frank jerks back.

“That’s disgusting,” Frank pouts, sitting back on his haunches.

“You’re literally about to put my dick in your mouth,” Mikey says, “or at least that’s what I keep hearing.”

He wiggles his hips like he’s wagging a flag and there’s something utterly fascinating about Mikey with almost all his clothes off. Unlike almost every other person Frank knows, Mikey seems to become _more_ relaxed with each article of clothing he loses.

“You’re pushy,” Frank realizes. He grins as he settles himself back between Mikey’s splayed legs.

Mikey just shrugs and slips his hand back into Frank’s hair. His tightens his grip up just a bit. “That okay?”

All this is already going far better than Frank could have imagined. Mikey is getting a five-star review _and_ a tip. If they keep this up Frank’ll be a repeat customer for sure. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make me go bald, asshole.”

Mikey yanks his hair harder for that, and Frank maybe plays up his reaction a bit, peeking up to see the look of contemplation Mikey levels at him.

He directs his eyes back down before Mikey can catch him watching. Boxers are much easier to work down than jeans and Frank hooks his thumbs and pulls them down without hesitating. Mikey’s cock springs out just as long and skinny as the rest of him. It’s shiny on the end and Frank doesn’t waste any time before leaning forward and sucking on the tip.

It’s been a while since Frank gave a blowjob, but it’s mostly like riding a bicycle, or maybe a sloppy slip-and-slide. Mikey makes it easy. He pushes up into Frank’s mouth once Frank sucks him down a few times, not pushing past the limit Frank set for himself or trying to fuck down his throat. It edges on just the side of too much without pushing Frank to gagging.

And Mikey is louder than Frank was expecting. Not so much in words—he doesn’t say anything but a few bitten off phrases—but his hands gets louder and louder the tighter they cling to Frank’s hair. Mikey doesn’t hide the high, sweet exhales he gives whenever Frank does something inspired.

Frank’s jaw is just starting to ache when the hands in hair begin to tug. He forgets to closes his mouth and a long string of spit trails between him and Mikey’s cock as he’s pulled off. He looks up at Mikey dazed from the rhythm of it.

“Fuck, Frankie,” Mikey says and swipes his thumb across the mess of Frank’s lips. He snaps the spit string, smearing the remains on Frank’s cheek. The dark expression on his face is hotter than anything Frank’s ever seen.

“Fine,” says Mikey. “You can.”

“What?”

“You can get it if you want to.” Mikey tips his head over to the end of bed, where his suitcase is sitting precariously close to the edge. “That’s what you wanted, right?”

Despite the fact that he literally was just slobbering on around a dick, Frank’s mouth dries. “Seriously?” he says, ricocheting up.

Mikey just waves a hand. “There’s lube in there too. You might had to dig around.”

Frank is off the bed and scrambling through Mikey’s dirty clothes without a further word. His fingers twitch when he finds the little black dildo, not quite sure this is happening when he pulls it out and actually gets to stare at it again.

Mikey shakes his head at him. “Go wash it,” he says, climbing off the bed too, apparently unconcerned with his dick waving wet and proud out there. “I’ll find the lube.”

Frank swallows his tongue and does what he’s told. He scalds his hand running the water too hot and pumps way more soap onto this hand needed before scrubbing away at the silicon.

The dildo isn’t even that big. Frank’s fingers loop around it without trouble. But it feels momentous when he dries it off and carries it back into the hotel room.

Mikey is stroking his cock casually as Frank trots back in. Frank feels a bit too much like a dog carrying a favorite stick when he comes up to the bed where Mikey’s sitting holding the toy and looking for direction.

Mikey’s eyes drop down to the front of Frank’s pants and his brows lift. “Come here,” he says, and crawls to the edge of the bed while Frank shuffles closer.

Mikey’s fingers find the button of his jeans and flicks them open. He doesn’t pull them off though, instead sitting up on his knees and pushing his hand down into Frank’s pants, squeezing him over his boxers.

Frank’s dick throbs dangerously at first contact. Mikey is far too nimble with the way he locates the tip of Frank’s cock and pinches him through the fabric. Frank yelps even as Mikey lets go, feeling himself shoot precome into his shorts.

“Ow, Mikey. Shit,” Frank hisses. He bends over the echo of pain in his cock, stomach swooping when he sees the wicked way Mikey blinks up at him.

“You’re into it,” Mikey says confidently. “I always knew you’d be into it. You’re such a little brat.”

There’s something in the way Mikey says _brat_ that makes Frank think that maybe he’s missed something, but he’s not about to admit that to Mr. Sex-and-the-City Way. Frank’s not inexperienced here. _And_ this was his idea. He’s not about to let Mikey make him feel like a virgin.

“Here’s your dildo, asshole,” Frank says, shoving the thing into Mikey’s face.

Mikey isn’t fazed as he takes it. “Thanks.” He slips his hand out of Frank’s jeans and pats his cock through the denim. “You should probably take off your pants now.”

“I thought you were doing that,” Frank grumbles, still smarting over Mikey’s sudden dick attack.

“I’m busy,” Mikey says and lays back down on the bed. He crooks a knee and Frank’s mouth goes dry all over again when a bottle appears in Mikey’s hand. He dribbles lube onto his fingers and trails them between his legs. There’s a sly curve to his mouth. “That’s what you wanted, right? You wanted to watch.”

“Oh,” says Frank. _Oh shit_.

His jeans hit the walls somewhere on the other side of the hotel room. Frank’s too busy launching himself back onto the bed to pay attention where.

Mikey’s already got one shiny finger pushed into himself by the time Frank settles down in awe between his legs. Mikey doesn’t waste long on it either, eyes heavy-lidded and bold as he pushes a second finger in with the first.

“Mikey,” Frank whines. His palms aching with the weight of wanting to touch. He reaches out and rests his hands on Mikey’s pale thighs, feeling the strain of muscles underneath the soft skin. Mikey watches him watching, but doesn’t stop the movement of his fingers between his legs.

“Can I?” Frank asks smoothing his hands down until they hit the slippery lube between Mikey’s thighs. “Mikey, can I?”

Mikey squints at him a moment longer before jerking his chin. “Lube’s right there.”

By the time Frank slips his hands back between Mikey’s legs, Mikey has pulled his hands away from himself and propped up his head on an extra pillow to watch. It feels a little surreal to trail his fingers along Mikey’s slicked hole. He can’t believe Mikey is just spread out of him like that, not even blushing the way he had for all the drama over his suitcase and the lead up to moment.

“You’ve had, like, a lot of sex, huh?” Frank says, fingertips toying with the rim of Mikey’s hole. “You’re not shy at all.”

“Not that much with guys,” says Mikey.

Frank shakes his head. “You are literally one of the most awkward people I know. How does this not qualify?”

“I dunno. It’s just different.” Mikey sighs happily, tipping his head back as Frank finally works a finger into him. Mikey opens up soft and easy around him. “It’s like, by the time I’m naked with someone there’s not a lot left to be weird about. It’s already as awkward as it can get. At that point most people just want to feel good.”

“Huh,” says Frank. He works in a second finger, stroking around the plush softness inside. Mikey is deliciously warm. Snug. He finds the spot that makes Mikey’s back bend and his mouth open and presses in deep. “That feels backward, Mikes.”

“Fuck. That feels fucking _good_ , Frank.”

Mikey is exactly as responsive as Frank had daydreamed. He squirms when Frank works in a third finger, then scrambles a hand up and pulls Frank down for a messy kiss. Three fingers sink into Mikey without a hitch, making Frank wonder just how often Mikey stretches himself out like this. He wonders suddenly if Mikey ever lets anyone fuck his ass bare; if he’s ever walked around dribbling the excess for hours after. The thought punches the air from him.

They kiss lazily as Frank finger-fucks him with shallow strokes. Mikey keeps his hand clamped around Frank’s neck, not letting him pull away even when his wrist starts to cramp. Frank so hard he’s nearly dizzy, but he hasn’t even reached for his own cock yet.

“Okay,” gasps Mikey, and the hand on the back of Frank’s neck releases. “Okay. You can use it now.”

Frank fumbles for the toy and pulls his fingers out maybe a bit too quickly, earning a hiss from Mikey. He lines the toy up after he’s slicked it up. It might be unnecessary. The sheets are practically shiny under Mikey’s hips.

Mikey grabs Frank’s wrist before he pushes the dildo in. “I like it slow,” he warns and it’s like he’s _trying_ to tease Frank with the way his hole flutters against the tip of the toy.

The dildo is long and slim, much like Mikey’s own dick. Mikey is almost over prepared for it if the easy wake the toy sinks into him is any indication. Frank tries to remember what Mikey said and goes slow, but they’re both sputtering when the toy bottoms out.

“Wow,” Frank breathes, watching as Mikey plants his feet flat on the bed and presses into it. He’s never seen someone just go for it like that. Frank never would have imagined _Mikey_ would be the one without shame.

He slides the toy out and back in again, testing just what Mikey meant by _slow_. Mikey groans every time the toy comes close to leaving him, and Frank can practically _feel_ the way he must be clenching down to keep it there.

Frank’s never fucked someone with a dildo before. There had been a few girls who preferred getting off with a vibrator, but he’s never had someone just shove a toy at him and say go. Mikey’s eyes are screwed up, sweat beginning to collect in his bangs and fog his glasses. Frank doesn’t want to fuck this up for him. He’d basically promised to make this good.

It takes just about everything in him to keep the pace slow and steady as Mikey begins to shake and rock back against him. After a few minutes, Frank falls into the rhythm of it much like he had when blowing Mikey. His other hand reaches out and feels with his fingers for the clench of Mikey’s hole against the toy as he slides it in and out. The wet sound of it is the only competition against their heavy panting.

“Good. That’s good, Frankie,” Mikey breathes, gasping as Frank angles the dildo up just right. Frank groans himself and his hips hump into the mattress.

“Harder?” he asks. Begs really.

“No. Just like that. That’s, ah! That’s perfect.”

So Frank grits his teeth and perseveres. He’s so hard it’s nearly painful. Mikey’s eyes squint at him after Frank lets out an embarrassing whine. His hand catches Frank around the neck again, tugging him down. “Come here, Frankie. I want your mouth.”

Mikey shoves Frank’s head in the direction of his chest. Frank’s open mouth slides wetly down his sternum, before his teeth drag across a nipple. Mikey hisses and arches up into him, fingers brushing the back of Frank’s skull. Frank gets with the program and sets his mouth to work there.

When Mikey comes his entire body goes rigid. His head gets thrown back in a wordless snarl and his nails digs into Frank’s skin.

It comes out of nowhere to Frank, who’s hands aren’t anywhere near Mikey’s dick. Frank just barely has the good sense to keep up the slow, relentless pace with the toy, watching in disbelief as Mikey shivers and quakes and spills his come all over their bellies.

“Holy fuck,” Frank breathes as Mikey goes boneless beneath him. “How the fuck did you just do that?”

Mikey cracks open an eye. His face is flushed and lazy. “It works if you go slow enough.” He smirks. “I’m surprised you had it in you, Frankie.”

Frank is still trying to wrap his mind around the idea of coming untouched. That’s like _porn_ levels of awesome. Frank had shoved that particular fantasy away into the realm of impossibility years ago.

“You’re close too,” Mikey says, reaching down. Frank nearly yelps when fingers wrap around his dick. He _does_ yelp when Mikey pinches the tip again, too quick for him to do anything but complain after the fact.

“Ow, Mikey! Fuck! Uncle! Jesus!”

“Better?” Mikey asks, retracting his fingers and smoothing over the tip of Frank’s cock like that makes the sting any better.

Frank glares at him. “No! Seriously. What the fuck? You don’t just pinch someone’s dick.”

“I didn’t want you to come yet.”

“Who the _fuck_ taught you that trick, Mikey Way?”

Mikey shrugs. “Chelsea from high school,” he says simply. “I never had a problem with coming too early after that.”

Frank drops his head and shudders. The pain in his dick is quickly becoming confused with the warm pressure of Mikey’s palm against it. Frank’s not an idiot here. It’s not like he’s a stranger to the idea of mixing pain in the bedroom. But that’s his _dick_.

“You’re a fucking nightmare,” he complains into the sweaty skin of Mikey’s chest. He can feel it when Mikey laughs at him.

“You ready to keep going?” Mikey asks. “I can blow you, if you want. You totally deserve it.”

Frank doesn’t even know what he wants. Unbidden, his eyes travel to the base of the toy still sticking out of Mikey.

“Not without a condom,” Mikey says, spotting the look.

Frank isn’t budging from his spot for all the money in the world. Not even to cross the short distance to one of their bags.

He bares his teeth and shakes his head petulantly against Mikey’s chest.

Frank startles when Mikey’s hand twists against his cock, nearly knocking their heads together. Mikey smooths a hand down his flank, before reaching down between his own legs and plucking the toy from Frank’s frozen grip. The toy pops out with a wet noise and Mikey sighs a little displeased sound before tossing it somewhere across the bed. Frank’s watches it sail out of sight.

“Yeah. Okay. Be lazy,” Mikey says, and then they’re tipping over. Mikey straddles Frank so seamlessly he’s left blinking in confusion as he winds up on his belly with Mikey’s knees on either side of his hips. Mikey bends down and grabs his hair, physically turning Frank’s head. Frank tenses, but Mikey just proceeds in kissing him so deeply Frank stops trying to think.

It’s only when they stop kissing that Frank realizes Mikey is grinding his boney hips into Frank’s ass. And Frank is, as a result, shamelessly rutting against the mattress.

It shouldn’t feel as good as it does. What’s the point of falling into bed with someone if no one is even going to touch his dick? But the press of Mikey’s soft and wet dick against the crack of his ass is messing with his head. Who does that?

Mikey has draped himself from ankle to wrist over Frank’s back. “You’re wound so tight,” he whispers, nipping at back of Frank’s neck. “Were you holding off for me?”

“You’re the weirdo that likes it _slow_ ,” Frank manages, mouth open and panting against the mattress.

Mikey’s fingers are weaved into Frank’s, pressing his palms against the sheets. His knees are holding Frank’s thighs split wide, soft cock sliding against his balls. It isn’t hot so much as it is _messy_. Frank’s wet with Mikey’s come and lube without fingers coming anywhere near his ass.

“We can do this again,” Mikey says, sharp hips grinding Frank’s cock into the mattress. “That was the deal, right? You’re even holding my hand.”His nails dig into Frank’s palms as if in proof. “You don’t need to wait, Frankie. I can fuck you for real next time.”

“Fucking fuck me _now_ , asshole,” Frank grits out, but he knows it’s over for him.

Mikey laughs low and easy in Frank’s ear. “Yeah, okay,” he says, and then his teeth scrape down the top of Frank’s spine and his sharp hips rocket his soft cock directly against Frank’s balls.

Frank’s moan tears out of his throat. Mikey’s grip goes vicelike around him, pinning him down with surprising violence as Frank’s chases his orgasm into the mattress. For several long, blissful seconds it’s nothing but damp-heat and pressure.

When it’s finally done Frank is left impossibly wet, trapped between Mikey’s sweaty chest and the mess they’ve made of the hotel bed. Frank’s nose wrinkles before he even notices.

“Ugh,” he groans.

Mikey’s grip on his hands goes easy. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just—“ Frank wiggles, grimacing at the wet spot directly beneath him, “—we’re so fucking gross, man.”

Mikey snorts and rolls of him. Frank makes even more of a face when he rolls over and sees him. There’s come and lube smeared from mid-thigh to his belly button, which means the _same_ is true for Frank’s back.

“You know, people usually look happier after sleeping with me,” Mikey remarks. “Did you break your dick?”

Frank looks at him in terrible realization as Mikey throws a hand under his head and relaxes into the pillows. “You would totally fall asleep just like this, wouldn’t you? Please tell me you’d at least get a wash cloth. A t-shirt? Anything?”

“It’s called enjoying the afterglow,” Mikey says. “You should try it.”

“That’s fucking nasty. You Ways should come with with a biohazard sign.”

There’s something sort of fantastic that Mikey can still manage to roll his eyes and look prissy even with his dick hanging out. “Fine,” he says, leaning up on his elbows. “You want to move to the other bed?”

Frank jerks up too. “Don’t you _dare_ climb into my bed without showering first, Mikey Way. Don’t you even think about it.”

Mikey yawns until jaw cracks. His stare is half-lidded and suspiciously blank when he looks back.

“I’m serious, Mikey. Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Oh, I see. _Now_ you care about boundaries,” Mikey drawls. “Where was all this when you were digging through my shit?”

Frank pouts. “That’s not fair! You can’t have sex with me and still be mad.”

“Then you can’t stick toys up my ass and complain about the mess,” Mikey returns.

“I’m not complaining,” growls Frank, “just—shower? You could give me that blowjob?” he adds hopefully.

“Do you need me to pinch your dick again?”

Frank’s hands drop hands protectively to his penis. He scowls as Mikey grins at him. “You’re a jerk.”

“You killed the afterglow.” Despite their squabbling, there’s something relaxed about the way Mikey waves a hand at him. “Go take a shower, Frankie. I’m tired. Just throw me a washcloth or something.”

“Ass,” says Frank, climbing out of the bed. “I bet you gave me fucking carpal-tunnel with all that slow shit.”

“Better than an STD,” Mikey giggles and Frank has to physically stop and turn around and watch him do that, if only because he’s never seen it before.

It’s a sight that makes Frank with he had any of the Ways’ talent for drawing. Sadly, all Frank can do is march right back to the bed, lean down, and kiss the giggles right out of Mikey’s mouth. Mikey gives a startled squawk, before dragging him further down. It’s funny how quickly Frank forgets about the spunk drying on his skin when he’s too busy swapping spit.

It’s Mikey that breaks the kiss, patting Frank on the cheek like he’s just performed a very good trick.

“Okay,” he says. “You can go get clean now.”

Frank doesn’t know whether to feel insulted or pleased. He settles on suspicious. “You promise not to touch the other bed?”

Mikey giggles again. “Yes, you little clean freak. Now hurry up and take your _second_ shower before I fall asleep on your jizz spot.”

“No, Mikey. _Our_ jizz spot.”

“God you suck.” Mikey groans and collapsing back against the pillows. “I change my mind. This was a terrible idea. I’m never sleeping with you again.”

“I’m a genius. Pete Wentz who? Tell me he ever made you come like that.”

Mikey hides his answer with a pillow he throws at Frank’s face. Frank grins and catches it, swatting Mikey’s ass before bouncing away. He has the fucking _best_ ideas.

Of course he trips on Mikey’s toppled suitcase as he makes his daring escape, thudding face-first to the floor. It’s tremendously worth it when he spies the little black dildo laying abandoned just inches away on the floor.

If he flings it back at Mikey before running for the bathroom door, it’s only out of love. Really, Frank’s never had a more happy accident.


End file.
